Silver Linings
by mangabreadroll
Summary: WARNING: SPOILERS. 13-year-old Krissa Frost has been tormented by her memories and emotionally scarred since the death of her older brother, Jack. When she chances upon the fabled spirit of light, who offers to help her heal, Krissa must now learn to let go of her suffering and with it, her past. The road to recovery may not seem so far away after all...
1. Prologue: The Memorial

**BEFORE THAT: **In case you didn't read the warning in the description, here be spoilers. Thank you.

**mangabreadroll's corner:** First, a warm welcome to the readers. *bows* Hey, guys. Yup, this is _another_ prequel based on Rise of the Guardians, the one Dreamworks animation that I've been hooked on lately, with yet another batch of OCs. This time, die decided to focus on Jack Frost's sister (who I've named Krissa in here) since I've had a lot of questions brimming about her ever since I knew she existed (through tumblr, by the way). I think I'll have a good time writing this (I realize I'm quite good at writing dark and dreary scenes .-.), but here - I'll start of with a little prologue before I leave to watch the movie later. ***wink wink* **Yes, it's short, but I assure you THERE WILL BE MORE. Once again, thanks for reading.

**Prologue: The Memorial**

The sky is gloomy and overcast, the early morning sunlight barely peeping through the seams of the grey clouds overhead. A light snow falls on the small town beneath it, encasing the ground in a thin layer of white.

Near the woods north of Burgess, a little girl clutches the hem of her mother's dress, watching with unperceivable emotion a tall man with dark hair tucked messily under a hat set a large stone down into the snow.

The watery veil that clouds her vision blurs the image of her father's frail figure as he stands in silence before the monument. Her hands and legs shiver uncontrollably from the cold and remain so, even as he returns to embrace them in reassurance.

The girl's eyes struggle to overlook the mournful faces of her parents, her ears trying to block out the unmistakeable sound of sobbing from around her. Looking past her father's arms that are now around her small body, she focuses on the lonely stone buried in the snow.

Her heart gives a painful lurch. Her throat feels dry, her chest freezing even the the presence of warmth.

With shaking and bruised fingers, she tugs at her father's pant leg. "Daddy, why didn't we go and find his body?"

Her voice is but a whisper.

The man looks at her sadly. "Krissa, dear," he replies, his voice shaking. "We... we can't."

_We can't_.

She looks back at the stone. She wonders if anyone cares.

"Krissa," her mother says softly and worriedly. "We have to go."

"No," comes the reply. Her eyes are still fixed on the stone.

The girl's father tries to pull her closer. "Krissa, please -"

"_NO!_"

She tears herself away from the man and woman and stumbles towards the stone, falling to her knees before it in anger and grief. She caresses the epitaph carved into its surface: _Jackson Overland Frost: a loving son, acquaintance and worthy of remembrance._

She runs her fingers over the words, feeling them, reading the message over and over again with lips that make no noise.

She closes her eyes. Only then does she begin to cry.

**~ To be continued... ~**

**Afterword: **Krissa's father is Once-le - no, I'm just kidding. It came to mind. Stay tuned!


	2. Chapter 1: Inescapable

**mangabreadroll's corner: **Well, it's finally over. I GOT TO WATCH RISE OF THE GUARDIANS! :DDDDD *spazzes momentarily* I really enjoyed it, especially the part about, you know, Jack's past. My best friend and I were taking snapshots of every single RotG poster we found, and we were totally shaking with feels in the cinema. ;) I'd like to say Dreamworks did a fine job on everything... except the pacing. Somehow the transition sfrom one scene to another felt really rushed, with barely enough time to slow down. Some parts were, however, very emotional and made us fanatics tear up inside and outside. So here's the first chapter, told from Krissa's point of view...

**Chapter 1: Inescapable**

I sat huddled in a corner of the room, my face partially buried in my lap. My hands were clamped onto my ankles like handlebars, hugging my legs which were pressed against the rest of my body.

The dim light streaming through the foggy windows cast shadows all around the room, making dark pictures of furniture appear on the walls. The hearth hadn't been bothered to be lit even though the temperature was below 12 degrees inside.

As I hugged myself against the wall, I shut my eyes, feeling my kneecaps pressing against my eyelids. I let the darkness settle in, leaving my senses to wander away from reality. At first, I could see was black, silence ringing in my ears and nothingness beneath me, like I was in a different plane of existence. And then, slowly, like a telescope focusing on a farwaway image, a flurry of images began to appear in my head...

_ I ran as fast as my legs could take me, sprinting past the trees that at the moment, seemed like tall, emotionless warriors ready to strike me down if I stayed in one place to long. Not looking where my feet were going, I tripped over a rock and fell face-first into the snow. I didn't bother to wipe it off. I blinked back my tears, forced myself up and ran madly for the housing area up ahead, just past the last row of trees. Having crossed the border, I ran up to the cottage and banged on the door, wailing. No one answered. I banged some more. My voice was cracking and my face burning. Just when all seemed lost, the door opened, and I saw my mother. I dived into her arms, screaming, repeating that one name...__  
_

I willed my eyes to snap open. I was back in my living room, back to reality.

My whole body trembled. I realised I was panting. My breath condensed in the cold air, forming little clouds of smoke. I looked at my palms, which had become sweaty. Like all the other times, the flashback had seemed so real. I had felt all the tension and heartbreak of the moment, every fibre of it, like I had travelled back to the past to witness - no, _be in_ - that same moment, multiple times.

The same scene that, although represented one of the darkest moments in my life, I kept on reliving for some unknown reason, like I was addicted to it, like it helped, to feel broken and responsible every time I did.

For a moment, I asked myself why I _enjoyed _hurting myself, doing this. Three years ago, when I was ten, my brother had drowned in the lake in the woods during a skating accident. I remember watching him sink, unable to do anything to help him, and that was what haunted me for the next few years. My personality did a double take; I became a loner, and depression became a daily routine for me, if not anything else. Reliving the events of that fateful morning became a habit, even if it only made me feel worse. I clung onto my grief like a lifeline; if I didn't feel sad, I felt like an empty shell, as there was nothing to be happy about. And even if I did feel happy sometimes, the satisfaction was only temporary. My parents hoped I would recuperate, but I didn't. There were times I went all hysterical, and even refused to take any meals. I became the troubled, struggling survivor of a nightmare - one that had lasted for those three years and had yet to end.

I sat up and switched to a sitting position, letting my legs come away from my chest. I focused on the mantlepiece above the fireplace, my eyes resting on a family photo.

Suddenly something clicked in my mind, like a gate opening. My eyes were open, but I could feel the next set of images breaking into my mind, rushing back into my head; I could almost hear them, the sound of a roaring wind.

_Don't give in, _I cried to myself, but the darkness came back, bringing with it another terrifying sequence, more real than ever before:

_ I slid across the ice, finally slowing to a halt about a few metres away from my brother. Clutching a wooden staff about a few inches taller than he was, he looked back at me from where he stood, smiling at me with those hazel-coloured eyes. I held my head up, smiling back. All was fine. I was no longer in danger of whatever was after me. _

_ All of a sudden, there was a sickening crack. Before my eyes, the ice under my brother split open, sending the innocent boy tumbling down into the icy depths below, dragging him down as he struggled, desperately crying for help..._

My eyes flew open. Beads of sweat trickled down my temples as I gasped for air, like I had been the one falling through the ice.

_It was only a flashback,_ I convinced myself. You're_ home now. Only a flashback._

I tried to remember who I was, in case for some horrible reason I so happened to be lost in that other plane of existence, vanished from this world, both my body and soul.

Krissa Frost, thirteen years old. Krissa Frost, daughter of Orion and Madeliene Frost. Krissa Frost, younger sibling and sister of Jack Frost...

I clenched my scalp with all my might in an attempt to stop the incoming torrent of memories, but I was failing miserably. I could almost see the outline of that dreaded lake...

"Krissa!"

The memories shattered at once, and I snapped out of it. I looked up, finding a young woman standing over me.

Her hair was brown, but unlike mine which seas straight and long, hers was short and showing signs of turning grey at the ends. A young woman I knew as my mother.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

It was the millionth time she had. I nodded - what a lie. I guessed she knew. My mother had endured all those months of me wallowing in my misery, she and Father having gotten over Jack's death quicker than I did; they were, after all, adults. I wondered how she managed. The grey hairs seemed to seal that fact.

She placed a hand on my cheek, as if checking for tears. Thankfully, most of them were still in my eyes, though they were just begging to be let out.

"Try not to think too much, dear," she told me. I felt her finger brush against my cheekbone.

I bit my lip. "I'll try."

She nodded in encouragement. "Good girl," she said, before planting a kiss on my cheek and handing me a light goatskin pack. "I think it's time you got to school."

Again, I nodded. Slinging the pack over my shoulder, I made for the door.

**~ To be continued... ~**

**Afterword: **There you go, a fairly decent opening to Krissa's story. This chapter was actually supposed to be longer that it is now, but I shortened it. Also, I know this takes place in the 18th century, but I decided to use the modern 21st-century speech pattern since it's easier to write and all. So forgive the historical inaccuracy. V_V More next time!


	3. Chapter 2: Fear and Foreboding

**mangabreadroll's corner: **Tadaa! Here's the second chapter, along with a new cover! I'd like to thank all of those who faved and followed (14 followers is a first for me OAO), as well as the two reviewers so far. Before we begin, fun fact: I got Krissa's name off the word _crystal__, _which is what I think of when I think of ice and frost and snow. It used to be just that, mind (she was originally going to be called Crystal). Also, introducing two of my OCs and Krissa's friends, Markus and Julienne. Julienne's last-minute appearance was based off Anne of Green Gables, the titular character from one of my favourite classics (out of all the ones I dread XP), hence her surname. So, here we go again. I suppose there will be no afterword.

**Chapter 2: Fear and Foreboding**

"Gosh, you look horrible."

Julienne hovered over me as I stared blankly at my desk, the surface of which littered with doodles, some of them by me, the others I guessed were by some other artistic wannabes.

"I know," I returned, continuing to be interested in the tabletop.

The redhead standing in front of me shot me a concerned look I guess I could place somewhere between concerned and bored (yes, that can be possible for someone like Julienne). She tilted her head sideways so her reddish-orange braids hung loosely from her head.

"No, really, I _mean_ it," she said, chewing a nail. "You look like you came back from the _dead_."

I didn't flinch at that statement. That I was willing to admit.

"You're not still spending time... _alone_, are you?" she asked, twirling a half-bitten fingernail at me.

I sighed. "I can't help it. It makes me feel better."

It was Julienne's turn to let out a sigh, albeit a rather long and frustrated one. She put her hands to her head like she was having a concussion. "Last week, you were _perfect_! Almost near to normal! _Now_ you're a zombie - "

"Hiding in the bathroom for three periods at a stretch isn't normal," I argued.

"Whatever!" Julienne looked like she was ready to undo her braids. She frowned at me. "You really should talk to someone when you're at home. Hang out with the village kids more. This looks like it's getting worse."

I scratched the top of the desk, feeling slightly guilty inside. At the start of the school year, I had been extremely reluctant to move to a new school, what with my inability to converse normally with the other children due to the savage spirits I was always in. On the first day, Julienne had found me moping by the front door, refusing to go in, and she had proposed to make sure I stopped all this 'mourning nonsense' after she begged me to tell her my problems (which I had to or she wouldn't let me go). That was how I met her. Apparently, a month hadn't been enough for her.

"If she doesn't start thinking positive, I am at a _loss_," I heard her say to someone else, emphasizing the last word.

"Well, you can't force her to..."

My ears perked up at the awfully familiar voice. I turned to find her complaining to Markus Redbrook, one of the boys in my class whom I knew very well, mostly through Julienne herself. He had been the second to know about my trauma, partly due to Julienne's talkative nature, but that was where my secret stayed.

"People need time, and you should know that," he continued. He saw me staring at him. "Hello, Krissa."

Julienne knitted her eyebrows. "Look, she's done a 180," she said to him snarkily. "Her face is brighter. Must be your hair."

Obviously self-conscious, Markus lifted a hand to his head of raven-black hair, which was combed back to reveal a large part of his forehead. "You're joking."

From outside, the sound of the school bell reverberated through the school, followed by the thundering footsteps of students filing into their respective classrooms. Markus strolled briskly back to his seat whereas Julienne straightened herself and sat down, keeping her eyes level with the blackboard. If there's one thing about Julienne Gable, it's whenever she's serious about something, she gives it her full attention.

Behind the last few groups of students, Madam Sherry, our arts and crafts teacher strolled in, her dark hair let down as far as her shoulder blades. As she placed her cane and stack of drawing paper onto her table, whispers travelled down the aisles of tables. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but from their excited tones it must've been good news.

"Pipe down," called Madam Sherry from the front, and the class fell silent.

The middle-aged woman's eyes swept the entire student body, like she was doing an impromptu spot-check on our behaviour. She drummed her fingernails on her cane.

"Alright, students," she announced. "Today is the last week of the first month of our school year, and so we will be going somewhere else for today's lesson."

A hand shot up from the third row. "Exactly where are we going, ma'am?"

Another boy raised his hand to answer that question, but a girl wrenched his hand away in a bid to keep that a secret.

Madam Sherry pursed her lips as the two students wrestled it out in the first row. She pointed with her cane towards the door. "Follow me."

* * *

We walked - or for some others, shoved - in single file out of the school grounds and into the snow, which was still considerably light.

I gazed at my blank sheet of paper as we moved away from the housing area. Back when I started school, arts and craft had been my favourite subject, as I was interested in anything that let me do what I want with a pencil or a paintbrush or bits and pieces of paper. After the accident, however, that interest had strangely waned.

Julienne, on the other hand, was hopping up and down excitedly behind me like the Easter bunny.

"So we're not drawing houses," she said sadly. Her mood did a double take and switched to pure joy. "We're drawing _trees_?"

I noticed we were going into the woods. My chest tightened. I hadn't come here in a very long time - in fact, I'd avoided it like the plague. We passed the opening in the trees. I hoped we wouldn't go any deeper, maybe stop to capture the army-like arrangement of the empty trunks. But we didn't. We moved on.

Uneasiness tingled down my spine. I slowed down, letting the other boys and girls overtake me with weirded-out expressions tossed in my direction every once in a while. Over the heads of the entire class in front of me, I could just barely make out a shining patch of blue.

"It's the lake!" Julienne suddenly squealed. "We're going to the _lake_!"

At once, my knees felt weak. I stopped walking entirely and I nearly fell over. Julienne saw me and her smile vanished.

"Oh, no." Suddenly she wasn't lecturing me like she always did, or did before. "Does your head feel uncomfortable? We took care of this, remember?"

I tried to breathe slowly, a procedure she had taught me on my first week, back when it was all panic attacks and spacing out. I leaned an arm on a tree trunk to support myself

I saw Markus rushing over, his drawing paper dog-eared and damp like it'd had a swim and never lived to tell the tale. "We should tell Madam Sherry." He felt my forehead, but I was too caught up in my situation I forgot to blush. He held two fingers up in front of me. "What do you see?"

I could see just fine. But the images were coming back. I had to leave if I wanted to stop them.

"Keep it together, Krissa!" Julienne yelled into my face like it would help. "If you keep doing this, you won't get any better - "

"I can't go there," I gasped. My neck was beginning to feel clammy. I hugged the paper to my chest, my teeth chattering.

Julienne looked at Markus. His expression tightened.

"You look after her," he said, stuffing the paper in Julienne's arms. "Take her back to the classroom I'll go alert Madam Sherry. She'll pass it off as a fever."

"_No_," Julienne cut in. "She has to stay here. We can't move her!"

All this shouting was making me see double. Both Julienne and Markus's voices were starting to sound muffled. I was running out of time.

"_I'm not going there! And you can't make me!_" I screamed, to both their shock as well as mine.

There was stoney silence. I didn't stop to look at their terrified expressions.

Before I knew it, I was running into the woods and away from everything else that kept me there.

**~ To be continued...~**

**Afterword: **Okay, I lied. But still! Cliffhanger! Stay really tuned!


End file.
